


One Last Look

by ultrasadfrownyface



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Attempted Murder, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Iwaizumi - Freeform, Minor Character Death, Oikawa - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:54:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27545665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultrasadfrownyface/pseuds/ultrasadfrownyface
Summary: Iwaizumi is trying to avenge the death of his mother- but this asshole is making it difficult.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, past Oikawa Tooru/ Kageyama Tobio
Kudos: 6





	One Last Look

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS GOING TO BE REALLY BAD I APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE  
> day 1 of me not knowing how to make a title  
> anyways, iwaoi brain rot deal with it

When Hajime Iwaizumi was nine, he lost faith in humanity.

It was a lazy evening, with the sun just beginning to dip below the tall buildings. Despite his protests that he was too old, his mother had firmly gripped his hand as they weaved through the busy city traffic, never once letting go. They were walking home from the local grocery store, with Iwaizumi carrying a six pack of beer that lightly clanked against his leg every time he took a step. Upon nearing their apartment, Iwaizumi’s mother slowed her pace, letting the young boy catch his breath. “Iwa-chan, your shoe is untied. You don’t want to trip, do you?” He looked down at his feet. Yes, his left shoe had become untied in the midst of walking home. Following his mother to a nearby bench, he sat down to tie it. His mother sat down beside him, and that was when he heard the first shot. The bullet whizzed past his mother, hitting the street lamp behind them. “Iwa, get down!” His mother screamed, but Iwa could do nothing but sit, paralyzed in fear. “Iwa!” His mother shoved him off the bench, forcing him underneath it. That’s when he heard the second shot. The cries that erupted from his mother was unlike anything he had ever heard. Her chest bloody, she turned towards Iwa. He couldn’t move, couldn’t force words out, couldn’t breathe- all he could do was stare at his mother’s bloody, mangled chest. “Iwa-chan, I love you, okay?” Her words sounded strained, almost painful. He tried to tell his mother that yes, he loved her too, he loved her so much, he’d let her hold his hand a thousand times if she could just stay here with him, but his throat was tight. He internally screamed, begging for someone, anyone, to just please help him, but it was useless. His mother’s eyes slowly closed, as the puddle of blood grew around his feet. Shaking, he looked down. His shoe was still untied. 

Eight Years Later  
Iwaizumi kicked the cans of beer that had piled up beside the couch. God, this fucker is such a SLOB. Sighing, he sat down on the worn sofa. It was 2:30, and he was working from 3 to 9. If he stayed out for just a little while after, there was a good chance he wouldn’t have to deal with his dad until the morning. Dad. Iwaizumi hated that word. It implied that the man actually gave a damn, actually did something positive in Iwaizumi’s life, instead of just sitting on his ass and drinking away whatever little earnings being a waiter had got him. For the millionth time since the shooting, Iwaizumi wished it had been his father. Iwaizumi shook the thought from his head. No, he didn’t have time to reminisce. He had a plan after all, a plan that would finally calm the anger and frustration that had built up over all of those years. Instinctively, he went to his phone and pulled up the article that he read almost daily.  
“Mother of Young Boy Shot in Drive-By.”  
There was little information on the reason behind it, and even less information on the shooters themselves. It pissed Iwaizumi off. The boys were arrogant little pricks, killing his mom for no real reason. And so casually too, like she was just an inanimate object, who didn’t have a life or son. He scrolled down further, to the very end, to a rough sketch of the shooters. No one had gotten a clear look at them, but judging from the picture, Iwaizumi guessed that they were all in their late twenties now, with the youngest maybe being eighteen. Iwaizumi felt his teeth grind together, the same way they did every time he was filled with uncontrollable rage. He took one last look at the picture before turning off his phone, and heading to the door. Smiling, he left the apartment. He was going to kill every last one of the fuckers.  
After his shift let off, Iwaizumi stepped outside to smoke. He leaned up against the brick exterior of the building, letting the burn seep its way into his lungs. Exhaling, he took in all of the sounds of the city- letting the constant sounds of traffic allow him to put his guard down for a second. Which is why, when he heard the low grumbling of a person behind him, he almost pissed himself.  
“Oh, Mad Dog, it’s just you.” Iwaizumi offered his cigarette up to the other waiter, who was standing opposite him with his arms crossed. With his constant scowl and intimidating presence, the man lived up to his nickname. However, Iwaizumi had gotten to know him over the years they worked together, peeling back the tough outer layers until they had become close friends.  
“You’re too young to smoke.” Iwaizumi laughed. Sure, he was too young to smoke, seeing he was seventeen, but it’s not like that was going to stop him.  
“When have you ever been one to care about what I do?” Mad Dog gave him a slight chuckle, then took the cigarette from Iwaizumi’s outstretched hand. Inhaling deeply, he turned towards Iwaizumi.  
“I don’t. But if the boss sees me smoking with some kid, I’ll never hear the end of it.” Mad Dog blew the smoke into Iwaizumi’s face, sending him into a coughing fit.  
“Asshole. Next time I’m doing this alone.” He snatched the cigarette from the man, proceeding to stomp on it with his worn black converse.  
“Whatever. You need a place to crash tonight? Or will your old man be gone?”  
Iwaizumi sighed. “I’m good, thanks. He should be gone until dawn, and even if he does come back before then, he’ll probably just be passed out.” Truthfully, he needed to work on his plan. He had a basic idea, but talking about murdering multiple people with a coworker just didn’t seem like that good of an idea.  
Mad Dog nodded. “Alright. But if you ever need anything, let me know.” The man turned towards the exit, giving Iwaizumi a small wave as he walked into the night. “See you tomorrow?”  
“See you tomorrow.”  
Later that night, Iwaizumi pulled up the article once again, balancing a lukewarm cup of ramen on his thigh. The pictures of the men who had shot his mother were indistinct, generic, and Iwaizumi had no clue how to find them. He sighed. It wasn’t fucking fair. How could he find the cowards who had killed his mother, when all he had was a rough drawing and no names? He leaned back, sinking into the sofa that still reeked of booze, when he heard a loud knock at the door. He jumped up, spilling the rest of his ramen all over his pants. Shit. He tried to wipe off the broth, with the knocking only getting louder, and more erratic. “One second!” Be patient, god damnit. He walked over to the door, with the soup still splattered across his crotch. Damnit. I liked these pants. He swung open the door to see the annoyingly impatient guest, and almost choked when he saw who it was.  
His old man, clearly on the verge of blacking out, was extremely drunk. A young man, maybe a few years older than Iwaizumi, was propping him up on his shoulder. The man looked surprisingly cheery, considering it was after midnight on a Friday evening, and was supporting all two hundred fifty pounds of pure fat and drunken hell. Iwaizumi opened his mouth, his words coming out more gruff than he had anticipated. “Listen, thanks for everything, but I’ll take him from here. What do I-”  
The chirpy stranger cut Iwaizumi off, sticking his hand out for Iwaizumi to shake. “I’m Oikawa! He started to walk off, but I offered to take him home because he didn’t seem to know where he was going. I hope you don’t mind!” Iwaizumi glared at Oikawa. His chipper attitude was starting to rub him the wrong way, and he was getting more pissed off the longer he stayed there.  
“Look, I said thanks, okay? I can take him.” His intimidating stance seemed to have no effect on the older man, who continued to prop up his father. Iwaizumi clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to wait around all night. He just wanted his old man to go inside, so he could head off to Mad Dog’s. Mad Dog would be pissed at the late notice, but he would understand.  
“No, I’ll help him settle in.” That annoyingly bright tone was back again, and Iwaizumi watched in shock as Oikawa walked right through his door. Who the hell does this guy think he is? Barging into someone’s house in the middle of the night, what is his issue? Iwaizumi stood there, dumbfounded, as Oikawa walked into the kitchen and sat Iwaizumi’s dad down on a chair. Iwaizumi didn’t have a choice. He followed closely behind, sitting directly across from Oikawa to make sure he never left his sight. Now that he was in the light, there was something about the man that made Iwaizumi incredibly uncomfortable. The soft, perfectly maintained hair, the pale skin that perfectly contrasted his sparkling brown eyes- Iwaizumi was sure he’d seen this man before, but he wasn’t sure where.  
“What happened to your pants?” Oikawa’s question brought Iwaizumi back to reality, and to the horrifying conclusion that a total stranger was in his house, looking at the massive soup stain on his pants.  
“None of your fucking business.” God, If Iwaizumi could murder Oikawa right now, he would. It was bad enough to be bombarded in his own home, but for a complete stranger to embarrass him like that was unbearable. “What do you want, anyway? He’s clearly fine. I’m sorry for putting you through all this trouble-”  
“He does this often, doesn’t he?” Oikawa’s voice had dropped its lively tone, softening to almost a whisper. His gaze had left Iwaizumi, and was focused on the dozens of beer bottles that were sprawled around the apartment. Iwaizumi didn’t speak. In fact, he didn’t even look up as Oikawa slowly rose and headed to the door. “I work at the bar he goes to a lot. If you ever need anything, let me know. You’re still a kid. He shouldn’t put this on you.” Iwaizumi refused to look up. With a sigh, Oikawa turned and shut the door.  
Once Oikawa had left, the anger that had been festering within Iwaizumi finally boiled over. Who the hell did he think he was? Walking on in, telling me what’s wrong with the fat fucker, like I don’t already know! It’s guys like him that I hate the most, the arrogant little pricks-  
Iwaizumi stopped his internal rant. His blood ran cold, the hairs on his neck sticking up as he slowly realized why Oikawa had looked so familiar. Hand shaking, he pulled out his phone, and went straight to the bookmarked article. Scrolling down, he let out a small gasp as he looked at the drawing of the youngest boy. The same perfectly manicured hair, sparkling brown eyes, except eight years younger. Iwaizumi shook his head. It couldn’t be right...right? But yet, the longer he looked at the picture, the more similarities he saw. His horror became engulfed by pure, unadulterated rage as a sinister smirk crept upon his face.  
“Oikawa, huh? I found you, bastard.”


End file.
